


Curtain Falls, Exit Stage Right

by Triscribe



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Bee has a rough go of it in chapter two..., Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Covering the transition from G1 to G2, Fluff and Angst, Mental Breakdown, but I promise things get better by the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 11:45:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14873154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triscribe/pseuds/Triscribe
Summary: Bumblebee might have been a bright and cheerful soul, but after the massacres caused by the Battle of Autobot City and Unicron’s arrival... Even the bubbliest of personalities can shatter. After that, it’s up to the friends and family to help put them back together again. Or in this case, the godson and his new best friend.





	1. Exposition

**Author's Note:**

> This was one of the earliest pieces of Transformers fic I ever wrote, and now that I'm back to working on making the transition from ff.net to here, I decided it really ought to be one of the stories that comes along for the ride. Hope you enjoy!

Scene 1:

Bee shivered. The loud noises and scary shaking from before had stopped, but neither of his creators had yet returned. A layer of dust covered the sparkling, clogging his vents and hiding his bright yellow protoform plating. Although, maybe that was a good thing. After all, his carrier had told him to keep quiet and hide, just as she was tucking him in the crevice beneath a fallen wall.

His fuel tank rumbled, dangerously empty, and Bee wished someone would come to get him soon.

Scene 2:

“Gotcha!”

Bee shrieked as orange servos scooped up his tiny frame. “Ah! R-Roddy! P-put m-m-me d-down-n!” The sparkling giggled, trying uselessly to squirm out away from the digits tickling him. Hot Rod just grinned at his victim.

“Sorry, Bee, but when you drop a bucket of solvent cleaner over my helm, you have to pay the price.”

“‘S-s n-not f-f-fair - you’re b-bigger-r th-than m-me!”

“Pipsqueak, everyone’s bigger than you.”

The sparkling panted as the tickling slowed, trying to pull cool air into his overheated vents. “Then, nobot should pick on me.”

“Excuse me?!” Exclaimed the older youngling. “With as much trouble as you cause the rest of us? You’re lucky Ironhide doesn’t lock you in a crate to keep this place safe.”

Bumblebee considered that possibility for a moment. “Nah. Op wouldn’t let ‘im. He likes me too much.”

“Hmph.”

Scene 3:

“You sure you’ll be alright?” Bee asked softly, sitting in a hunched over position on the berth. Hot Rod sent the younger mech a confident smile, tucking the last of his personal possessions into sub-space.

“Sure I will, Bee-bot! You know Kup already does everything he can to keep my thick helm from getting into too much trouble - it’ll be easier now that he’s my commanding officer.”

The yellow youngling snickered, a brief grin flickering across his faceplates. “True. And, I suppose that if you cause half as much destruction in a fight as you do on base, this war will be over in no time.” 

“Oh, ha ha, hilarious.” Hot Rod rolled his optics, then grew abruptly serious. “Hey Bee, I want you to promise me something.”

“What?”

“When you come of age in a few vorns, and officially join the Autobot ranks, don’t go volunteering for active combat duty.”

“What?! Roddy, I can’t just-”

“Bumblebee. You’re fast, you’re a decent shot, but you’re also the smallest bot who ever lived. It would only take one half-sized ‘Con scoring a lucky hit and you’d be offline before Ratchet or any other medic had a chance of reaching you. How do y’think the bots around here would handle that, huh?”

Sighing, Bee had to admit the truth in his friend’s words. In the time since he’d been rescued from the ruins of a bombing attack as a sparkling, the minibot had managed to make friends with just about every Autobot who came to the Iacon base. Death was a natural part of war, as he’d long known - but losing a mech who’d grown up running around their pedes would be devastating to a lot of bots.

Sometimes he really hated being everyone’s little brother.

“Fine. But don’t think for a second I’ll just resign myself to deskwork or monitor duty: I am not about to set myself up to turn into Red Alert.”

“Fair enough.”

It was that very evening, after the friend he’d had closest to his own age left with the departing troop regiment, that Bee wandered down to the training halls and caught sight of Jazz working through the unique Special Ops obstacle course.

“Can you teach me to do that stuff?”

Scene 4:

The thought that he probably would have been safer on a real battlefield was very prominent in Bee’s processor as he tried to dodge Seeker fire.

In hindsight, he should have been more patient in waiting for his backup to arrive in place before infiltrating the Decepticon outpost, but the arrival of a convoy of freshly mined minerals was too good an opportunity to miss! Not one ‘Con spotted the yellow minibot as he slipped in the gate behind one of the delivery vehicles.

The rest of the mission had been simple to the extreme: climbing up into the ventilation system, making his way into the secured communications center, and downloading all the information he could hack into hardly took two breems.

It was on the way back out that things had gotten tricky.

Belting out a string of curses as another plasma bolt singed his right side fenders, Bee swerved behind a rusty outcropping and transformed, bringing his single grip blaster out of sub-space. It wasn’t a very powerful weapon, but if he could just hit the right spot...

The Seeker who’d been on his aft since escaping the outpost banked overhead, coming around for another pass. Bumblebee lined up his blasted with the approaching target, carefully took aim, and- NOW!

Of the three quick shots he fired off, the first was dodged, the second scorched a tail fin, but the third managed the land right at the exposed joint where wing panel joined fuselage. Shrieking, the Seeker made a failed attempt at transforming, and ended up losing what little control had remained to him.

Taking a brief moment to sigh in relief, Bee’s emotions quickly morphed into horror as he realized the spiralling ‘Con was dropping right towards his position.

Sprinting as fast as his pedes could go, Bumblebee just barely cleared the impact point before his unfortunate opponent crashed. The resulting explosion, though, not only ripped the small mech away from the ground, but sent him helm first into another outcropping.

After that things got really fuzzy.

Groaning from the pain of the impact, not to mention the shards of shrapnel embedded in his armor, Bee tried to sort out what his damaged sensors were reporting. His optics were hit with waves of static, his audio units fritzed in and out, and everything else was in a similar state or worse. At one point, Bee would have sworn there was a trio of large Decepticons leering down at him. The next, his surroundings seemed to be filled with blaster fire and fighting, yelling mechs. It wasn’t until a pair of familiar, red plated servos were reaching down to lift him from the ground that the minibot realized reinforcements must have arrived to retrieve him.

“B*shhk*bl*fzzt*ee, ar*kkksht*amaged?” Unable to articulate a response, even should his frazzled processor have been in a place to come up with one, Bee just curled himself into a tighter ball against Prime’s chestplates. Trembling with both pain and relief, the minibot was unaware of the trip back to base or anything afterward - until, that was, he awoke with senses restored in the med bay, listening to the reassuring sounds of Ratchet berating Jazz and Mirage for not supplying proper support to their operatives.

Scene 5:

“And I knew,” Ironhide was saying as Bumblebee entered the Ark’s rec room, “Th’ instant that Prime brought that little stinker inta base, the lot of us were gonna regret it at one point or another-”

“‘Hide, please tell me you aren’t on another ‘curse that sparling for wrapping us all around his digits’ rant, because I can honestly say I got tired of hearing those at least thirty vorns before we even left Cybertron,” Bee said plaintively as he headed for the energon dispenser.

“Oh come on, dude!” Spike grinned from his place on the table beside where Ironhide sat. “I’ve lived through my dad recounting every baby story he has of me to you guys, I think it’s about time I got to hear a few in return.”

The old mech chuckled as Bee began to pantomime banging his head against the wall. “Now, ain’t it nice t’ see that younglings across th’ cosmos share a singular horror of their guardians tellin’ sparkling stories.”

“Horror does not even begin to cover it.” Bumblebee grumbled. “And you’re just lucky there’s nobot here who’s ancient enough to tell such tales about you, ‘Hide.”

“Oi! Is that a crack about my age?”

Bee’s expression was the picture of innocence as he replied. “Whatever gave you that idea, Grampy?”

For the next forty minutes, mechs all throughout and around the Ark got to look on with smirks and grins as the cheerfully bellowing Ironhide chased around a wildly laughing Bumblebee.

Scene 6:

Craning his helm around the edge of the canyon wall, Bee ran through his processor every single curse he’d ever picked up from Ratchet, Ironhide, and the Twins. Nearly twenty Autobots were trapped at the end of the rocky canyon, most of them wounded, and all of them at the mercy of the Decepticon weaponry aimed towards their position. Even worse, Soundwave had set up his usual jamming field, the edge of which was far enough away that Bee doubted he could make it there and send out a distress signal before the ‘Cons opened fire on his friends.

Optics scanning desperately for some sort of inspiration, Bumblebee’s gazed landed on a jumbled heap of boulders perched precariously at the top of the opposite canyon wall. The fact that the pile was directly above the Decepticon position seemed to be an act of Primus.

Hurriedly, Bee climbed a bit higher up on the cliff face, trying to get to an optimal position for the shot he’d have to make. He would, after all, only be getting one chance at it.

The yellow bot’s luck ran out, though, just as Bee reached what seemed to be the perfect spot. A chunk of rock broke off underneath his left pede, bouncing down to the canyon floor and making more noise than any piece of stone had a right to. Several things happened in quick succession then:

Bumblebee raised his blaster.

Skywarp appeared in the air beside him.

The minibot fired.

The ‘Con’s clawed digits closed over his extended servo, crushing it easily.

And Bee’s shot hit the boulder pile right at the base, triggering a domino effect that brought the whole lot crashing down into the canyon.

Startled, Decepticons yelled in fear and scattered in all directions, while those Autobots that still could cheered as they began to shoot at their enemies. Recovering from his shock, Skywarp teleported away-

-taking Bee with him.

Scene 7:

“Don’ stowp thewe!” Three year old Daniel cried. “Wha’ happened nex’, Unca Bee?”

“Well, fortunately for me, Skywarp and I didn’t go too far - just a handful of miles further out into the desert - but we were very high up in the air.”

“Close ‘nuff ta towch clowds?”

“Easily. And then, he dropped me.”

The human child gasped, staring at the yellow mech with wide-eyed amazement. “You felled?”

“Fell, yes.”

“Did you died?”

“Nah - good old Skyfire had already been on his way, and managed to dive and catch me.” What the minibot _didn’t_ say was that Skywarp had shot him at point blank range before letting go, and that Bee lost so much energon on the way down that he’d been nearly dead when the white shuttle caught him, a mere few hundred feet away from smashing into the ground at terminal velocity.

“Then Watchet fixed evewybody an’ they lived happily evew aftew,” Daniel declared cheerfully. Bee grinned as the tiny boy yawned, snuggling down into the pile of blankets held in the minibot’s lap. “G’night, Unca Bee.”

“Goodnight, kiddo.” A few minutes later, the child was sound asleep, and Bumblebee silently congratulated himself on another bedtime story well told.

Scene 8:

“Hey Bee, are you in here? It’s okay if you’re busy, I was just-”

“Come on in Blue, I’m way in the back!” As the Datsun walked into view, Bumblebee was storing away the last of the materials shipment recently donated by the United States and other governments. “Y’know, I’m starting to believe we have enough steel and titanium in here to build a same-size replica of Omega Supreme.”

“Really? That is a lot. Unless it’s an exaggeration, in which case it would still be a lot.” Bluestreak grinned at his friend, prompting an amused roll of the optics. “But anyway, what are you still doing back here? The shuttle’s about to arrive with those new guys from Cybertron, and Optimus wants everyone who’s available to be outside on the landing pad to say hi and I didn’t think you’d want to miss it even if we weren’t ordered to-”

“Right, thanks Blue, I just lost track of time,” Bee politely cut him off. Nodding in acknowledgement, the Datsun led the way out of the storage bay and in the direction of Autobot City’s new airfield. “So, do you know the names of any of these newcomers? I’ve been too busy the last few days to find out.”

“Oh yeah! Prowl was saying just the other night that he looked forward to working with another by-the-book mech like Ultra Magnus, and Ironhide’s been eager to swap some new stories with Kup, and Carly’s happy that Arcee will be another femme to talk to, and the twins can’t wait to pull some pranks on the officers with Blurr and Hot Rod, and Wheeljack wants to get a look at Springer’s triple changer abilities-”

“Whoa, whoa, hold up a nanoclick - did you say Hot Rod?”

Scene 9:

The orange and red mech had barely taken three steps away from the end of the shuttle ramp when a familiar yellow frame plowed into him out of nowhere.

“Roddy!”

“What the- Bee?! Where the frag did you come from?”

“Well, about ten seconds ago I was still in the hall by the storage bays.” The minibot grinned, hopping back to his pedes to allow his old friend to get up from where he’d been knocked to the ground.

By this point, nearly everybot gathered along the landing pad was watching them with a range of expressions from exasperation to bemusement. “I know ya take bein’ friendly pretty seriously, Bee,” Jazz was the first to speak up. “But y’think ya can wait until after the intros are passed around ta jump a mech?” His cackles only increased in volume as Prowl whacked him upside the helm.

Kup came a little closer, studying the mech who barely came up to the chestplates of his own semi-former charge. “‘Hide?” He called out after a moment. “You fed this kid at all in the vorns since I last saw him?” Snickers filled the air as Ironhide let out his typical harumph sound.

“Says the mech who used to misplace his youngling every couple of joors...”

“Oh-kay, no need to start an argument over who was the better guardian, right?” Bee tried to interject. Optimus ended up doing a better job of getting everyone’s attention, though, by stepping forward and reminding the crowd that they had tasks to do inside. First, and perhaps most important, was the introduction of the newcomers to the Autobot’s human allies waiting within the monitor room. On the way there, Bumblebee and Hot Rod hung towards the back of the crowd, the former telling the latter about some of his more memorable activities on Earth.

“-and I swear there’s something about this planet that makes the ‘Cons even dumber than usual, Roddy. It took them nearly a full decade to figure out that I was sneaking into their submerged base to steal weapons specs and battle plans.”

“Figures. Then again, you always were a sneaky little slagger, Bee. By the way, is this hunk of rock really mostly covered with water? I saw all the blue on our way down, but...”

“It sure is, and inhabited by more organic lifeforms than Hound could study in a lifetime-”

“Uncle Bee!”

“Speaking of.” The minibot paused to pick up a very muddy six year old leaving footprints and puddles down the corridor behind him. “Hot Rod, I want to introduce you to my godson, Daniel Witwicky.”

“Hi there!” The taller mech smiled down at the suddenly shy organic.

“Hi...” Daniel said back, wiping away some of the dark brown sludge that covered him nearly completely from head to toe. “Bee, can you help me clean up in the wash racks before Mommy sees me?”

“I think it might be a little late for that, kiddo...” The boy cringed as he saw Autobots in the hall ahead of them clearing a path for the clearly torqued off Carly.

“DANIEL SAMSON WITWICKY! How many time have I told you not to go swimming in the drainage run-off without supervision?!” The kid’s protests that he’d merely been playing on the bank went unheeded as his mother dragged him away.

Hot Rod let out a low whistle of awe. “Wow. I guess the females on this planet can be even feistier than the ones back home, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

Scene 10:

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Daniel asked fearfully, hugging tightly to his dad but directing the question up to Bumblebee as well.

“Of course we will be, Danny,” Spike said as he pressed a kiss to his son’s forehead.

“Don’t worry about us, kiddo - eight months from now and we’ll be back, picking you up from school, asking questions about what pretty girl you’re thinking of asking out-”

“Ew! Uncle Bee, why do you have to say things like that?!”

“As your godfather, one of my primary duties is to assist your parents in all their efforts to embarrass you.”

The eleven year old groaned, stomping away to say goodbye to some of his other friends and babysitters. Bumblebee also stepped aside to allow Carly and Spike their own private farewell. When it was nearly time to depart for the Cybertron moon bases, he managed to catch Hot Rod for a few moments.

“Hey, keep an optic on Daniel for me, will ya Roddy?”

“Sure thing, Bee. And you make sure to take care up there too! I’d hate to have to come bail your aft out of trouble after all these years of a clean record.”

“Heh, just you watch, it’ll end up being the other way around - we’re just doing monitoring and spy stuff, remember? Things I happen to be pretty good at.” The last call was sounded for the departing Autobots to board the shuttle, forcing Bumblebee to hurry off, waving at his friends as he went.

None of them could have known the hell they’d be going through in half a year’s time...


	2. Things Take a Bad Turn

Scene 1:

“Bee?” Spike was gasping from their extended run. “Y’know how I said as a kid that Decepticons had to be the worst thing ever to come from your neighborhood of the universe? I was wrong. I was _so_ wrong.”

“Yeah,” Bumblebee agreed. “This monster has to take the cake for that category.”

Neither of them was sure how long exactly they’d been on the move since getting sucked into the giant metal moon-thing, but Spike’s emergency rations in his exo-suit and Bee’s extra cubes of energon had been consumed a while back. What was worse, the minibot had taken the brunt of a laser blast for his friend, cracking open some of his back armor and tearing loose a few coolant lines. Had Spike been able to get out of his protective suit, he could have easily done some field repairs to help keep Bee from getting too over-heated, but as there was no breathable atmosphere inside the metal monster the human was forced to remain inside his personal container for oxygen, the digits of which were much too bulky for such work.

“Heads up.” Spike warned, as footsteps approached from around a turn ahead of them. Bee raised his blaster, despite the fact it was down to sixteen percent power, but was relieved when a familiar outline appeared.

“Jazz,” he called wearily to the Porsche. “Am I glad to see you.”

“Same here, little dude,” the visored mech responded with a strained grin. “‘Course, it’d be nicer ta know exactly where _here_ is.”

“Somewhere inside a planet sized monstrosity that ate Moon Bases 1 and 2,” Spike deadpanned.

“A very valid point, my small friend. You two doin’ okay?”

Bumblebee started to respond with an affirmative, but his best friend beat him to the punch. “Bee took a hit to his back panels, and could use a field dressing to keep his coolant and God knows what else from leaking else.”

“Ah-ha. Alrighty then, Bee-bot, about face!” Sighing, the minibot didn’t even bother to voice his opinion that it was fine, that they should just keep moving. He allowed Jazz a look at his back, ignoring the muttered comment of _How do you always manage to get into these messes?_ in favor of keeping his optics peeled for any incoming cables or drones - they’d constantly been attacking, trying to snatch up bots to drop into smelting tanks. Bee and Spike had already witnessed a series of offline mechs going into such things, and had no desire to join the ranks.

“Okay, Bee, I think you’re good to-” Jazz’s words deteriorated into a strained gurgle, prompting Bumblebee to whirl around in shock. He felt his circuits freeze at the sight of a pointed cable speared through the saboteur’s neck cables.

“NO!” The minibot screamed, even as more cables came out of the wall behind them to encircle his old friend’s frame. “JAZZ! NO! _LET HIM GO!”_ Bee tried tearing away the metal cables, but was no match for their superior numbers, especially once Spike caught ahold of his servo and started straining to pull the frantic minibot away.

“Bee! Bumblebee, stop! It’s too late!” The desperation in his human friend’s words finally registered, and Bee allowed himself to be dragged down the corridor as a dying Jazz was pulled into a compartment inside the wall.

It wasn’t until they were out of sight and sound of the attack that Spike slowed down enough to try and talk to him. “Bee? Bee, please. We- we have to keep moving. It’s the only way to stay alive in here.”

“Spike... I don’t think we’re gonna be able to do that for much longer.” Alarmed, the human swatted his friend.

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be mister always-looks-to-the-bright-side? We’ll get out of this, you’ll see. I bet the battle back on Earth’s been finished up, and right this minute Optimus and the others are figuring out how to get us out of here.”

“...Maybe. But I can’t help but feel that if everything out there was fine, they’d have rescued us already.”

Scene 2:

This place was a nightmare, one terrifying deathtrap after another. First Jazz, then Cliffjumper, and now both Bee and Spike had been caught by the metal cables, secured to a hanging conveyor that brought them closer and closer to the horrifying smelting tanks.

“‘M sorry, Spike.” Bumblebee groaned, dents and tears in the right side of his helm spitting out random sparks as his processor struggled to stay online. “I shoulda done better...”

“Don’t you dare.” Spike warned him, lying still inside the exo-suit as oxygen leaked out the gashes along his right arm unit. “I will not have your last thoughts before joining the Allspark be guilt-ridden, Bee. Hey, you think there’ll be a connecting passageway between your afterlife and mine?” The joke was weak, and they both knew it, but there was nothing else to distract themselves from looming death at this point.

“If... There isn’t... I’ll make one.” Bee promised, trying and failing to grin. Spike chuckled weakly, about to say something else, when a familiar voice cried out from the room’s floor, far below.

“Daniel?!” Yelped Spike, twisting to try and see. Sure enough, his twelve year old son was looking up at them with horror, wearing the original exo-suit. “Danny! The lid! Shoot the lid! Hurry!”

It took precious seconds, but the kid figured out his weapons systems, and was able to knock over and close half the lid of the smelter, mere moments before Spike and Bumblebee were released from the conveyor belt.

Still in shock over having avoided certain death after all, the two of them stared at each other for a few silent moments. Then, the falling bodies of other bots from the conveyor prompted the pair to slide down. As Bee hit the ground, he ended up dropping to all fours while waiting for everything to stop spinning, vaguely listening to Daniel bury his father in a barrage of details from the last few days. It wasn’t until the entire room began to shake, thought, that Bumblebee regained control of himself.

“Now what?” He groaned, hauling himself to his pedes.

“I guess the others found the Matrix of Leadership and got it to open.” Bee’s frame jerked as Daniel’s words sank in.

“Found the- why would they have to find it? How on Earth would Prime manage to lose-”

“Later, Bee - let’s just focus on getting the heck out of here!” Spike jumped in. Suitably distracted by the dangerously unstable environment, the three of them headed for the same tunnel Daniel had come through.

Scene 3:

Bumblebee stared. He hadn’t wanted to believe it. Losing Jazz and Cliffjumper had been bad enough, but half the inhabitants of Autobot City too? This was nightmare.

At first, when Roddy and the others explained how they’d come to be in a position to rescue Bee and Spike, the yellow minibot had dismissed most of the things they said. Even the changes made to his old friend’s frame by the Matrix of Leadership weren’t enough to persuade him. Not until Skyfire had been patched up enough to take a group of bots back to Earth was Bumblebee able to get a visual of the damages.

It was like being back on Cybertron in the height of the War, when the Decepticons had enough forces to decimate entire city-states. Bee himself had been found as a sparkling in one such ruin, and he’d had the opportunity to see many more before the Ark was launched. However, those had just been ravaged landscapes. This was home, torn to shreds and stomped flat.

He suddenly had a very good idea of what Prowl, Smokescreen and Bluestreak had felt after Praxus fell.

Inferno and Silverbolt approached in order to assign the newcomers to tasks where they’d be able to best help, but Bumblebee wasn’t listening. He suddenly transformed, taking off down the wrecked roadways and ignoring the startled cries of his friends. Zig-zagging around the debris, Bee took a sharp turn into the building that held the medical bay. When he reached the bent doors, the minibot switched back to bi-pedal form and entered.

Bumblebee only had the chance to take a few steps past the threshold before the horrifying sight stopped him cold.

On more than a dozen tables at the back of the room, the sparkless frames of mechs he’d grown up with were lying in all their battle-scorched glory. Off to one side were the husks of the bots who’d been aboard the shuttle a few days ago, the ones ambushed and killed by Megatron’s forces in an effort to infiltrate the city. Faint sounds of monitoring equipment from the private rooms told Bee that at least a few of the wounded had survived, but he was in no mood to go and see who.

Because lying on a medical berth front and center was Optimus, optics and spark chamber equally dark. 

The sight of it was enough to drop Bee to his knees, keening in distress. First Aid found him there a little while later, shaking and inconsolable. The Protectobot medic was forced to inject the grief-stricken minibot with a sedative before moving him to a spare berth in one of the survivor’s rooms.

Scene 4:

“Why the frag am I still here, Roddy?” Bumblebee snarled. His old friend, despite being almost twice as tall and empowered by the Matrix, flinched at the harsh tone. Nearly four months had passed since Unicron’s defeat, and while Autobot City was well on its way to being up and running again, a handful of bots hadn’t yet recovered from the losses of those terrible days.

Bee being chief among them.

The once cheerful minibot with a keen sense of humor had turned into someone resembling the worst qualities of Ratchet, Cliffjumper and Ironhide. For his own good, the young Prime had been forced to send Bumblebee to a psychiatric clinic set up on Cybertron for soldiers trying to readjust from wartime to peace. He hadn’t gone quietly - Bee’s actions were much more violent than they used to be, and it took an escort of four guards to force him along. Telling him it was Prime’s orders hadn’t helped in the slightest, either.

“You haven’t gotten over the trauma yet, Bee. It’s not safe to let you out and about when you’re liable to attack someone who happens to say the wrong thing in passing,” Rodimus patiently informed him. The only reason he hadn’t lost his temper with the minibot long before wasn’t, in fact, because of their old friendship, but due to his being able to commune with the sparks of Primes past through the Matrix. Bits of advice and inputs from those great leaders were always finding their way into his processor, along with some of the stronger emotions they felt upon seeing various things through Rodimus’ optics. Usually, it was joy or relief that Cybertron was finally being properly rebuilt, but whenever he visited his old friend at the clinic, Roddy could sense Optimus’ immense grief over how much Bumblebee had lost his way.

“Frag the stupid trauma!” The minibot roared, slamming his fist into the wall with a resounding _wham._ “And frag everyone else! Why the hell should you care whether or not I give someone a good reason not to talk about them?” _Them_ was always the Autobots they’d lost. He never used the term ‘the dead’.

“Because you can’t just go around throwing punches at people who say things you don’t like! Primus, Bee, you’re acting more like Sunstreaker than Sunny himself ever did!” Just as quickly as he’d given in to his frustrations, Rodimus brought his emotions back under control. “Look. For the first time in nine millennia, we’re at peace, Bumblebee. I know the cost was high, but you need to let go of the past and look to the future.”

“Frag the future,” his friend muttered, turning away and stalking over to the shielded window that overlooked Iacon’s spaceport.

“Bee... I don’t want to leave you in here. But until you start acting like yourself again-”

“Didn’t you just tell me I should let go of the past?” The minibot asked sarcastically. “I acted like everyone’s favorite little brother only to keep bots happy, Roddy. I haven’t been a truly cheerful mech in vorns. Now, just... Just let me be, if you aren’t going to say anything helpful.”

Rodimus watched him silently for a few more minutes, but Bumblebee made no sign of turning around to face him or of starting up the conversation again. Eventually, he sighed, and departed. As soon as the door slid shut, Bee dropped to the floor and curled in on himself, shaking with the suppressed keens and wails his vocalizer was desperate to release. Instead, he forced himself to calm down and keep it all in.

Finally clambering back to his pedes, Bee’s gaze swept over the view once again. A colorful flash down by the entrance of the spaceport caught his optics:

_Job Offerings - Join the Solar Scouts! Patrol the sectors between Earth and Cybertron, on the alert for incoming threats before they can strike!_

Maybe he just needed to get away from everything for a while...

Scene 5:

“...And sign that last line there, and you’re all set to go, Mister Goldbug!” The human receptionist said cheerfully. “I’d like to thank you again for applying to the Full Distance position - we don’t get many volunteers willing to spend that much time alone in space.”

“I don’t mind,” Bumblebee told her honestly. “I haven’t got much keeping me around here, anyway.” And it was true, in a sense: the clinic’s security had been a joke to evade, so it certainly wasn’t holding him back, and his so-called friends were the exact people who’d try to put him straight back into that place.

“Well, it’s a big commitment just the same, so we appreciate your dedication. Now, if you’ll just follow me, we’ll get you outfitted in one of our scout ships, and get you off on your patrol route!” He nodded, and the two of them went out to the hangar bays.

A little over three hours later, and Bumblebee - or Goldbug as he’d introduced himself, underneath the new black and yellow paintjob - was all set to depart. His paperwork had been filed and approved, a small, fast ship loaded up with supplies, and thanks to his volunteering for the longest, loneliest, and least patrolled interstellar route, the people in charge of the Space Scouts were practically falling over themselves to go ahead and get him on his way. It was almost too easy.

Of course, just as he was having that thought, complications arrived in the form of some irritated Autobots.

Bee was powering up his new ship’s engines when his comm console pinged with a message from the same office the receptionist had gone back to. Assuming it was her or another employee with a few last minute details, he went ahead and opened it.

_*BUMBLEBEE! What do you think you’re DOING?*_ A fragged-off sounding Rodimus Prime bellowed.

“Leaving for my new patrol route.”

_*Primus slaggit, Bee, I order you to disembark that ship and get your sorry aft back to the clinic!*_

“Order, Roddy? ‘Fraid not. I’m a member of the Space Scouts now, not the Autobots, and as such I no longer recognize your military authority - not that I ever did in the first place, mind you.”

_*This isn’t funny, Bee.*_ His old friend growled. _*You’re not well, and you’re only going to get better with treatment-*_

“Then consider this new job of mine to be self-medication.”

_*Are you going to disregard your planetary leader, Bumblebee?*_ Another voice, Ultra Magnus, asked him.

“Yep!” He responded with a bounce in his tone. “Never really acknowledged him as a leader, anyway.”

_*Bee, please don’t do this,*_ a familiar human voice came across the channel, and Bumblebee had to steel himself so as not to break at the sound of Spike’s pleading.

“...Sorry, Spike.” He found himself whispering. “But I can’t stay. Not when their faces are still haunting me. I just- I need to go away for a while.”

_*Will you come back?*_ Roddy was sounding a lot less angry, more defeated.

“At some point, yeah. If nothing else I’ll have to come back to Cybertronian airspace every once in a while to renew my patrol validation.” Deciding he needed to go ahead and flee while he still could, Bumblebee lifted his ship’s landing gears and started to rise into the atmosphere. “You’ll pass along my goodbyes to the others, I hope. Take care of yourselves down there!”

He cut off the channel before a response could come through.

Scene 6:

Surprisingly, two months into his interstellar patrol and Bumblebee wasn’t lonely in the slightest. He’d have conversations from time to time with the ghosts of dead mechs, laughing with Jazz again over some old pranking efforts of the Twins, promising Ratchet he was keeping his fuel levels within an acceptable range, informing Optimus of the good things that had been happening and how much better they’d be if he were still around as Prime. The minibot had also received more than a few recorded messages transmitted from Cybertron - he’d ignored the ones from Roddy and the clinic doctors, only opening the occasional one from Daniel or Spike. His godson often mentioned his new best friend, a tiny mech by the name of Wheelie, and evidently the two of them together were even bigger trouble-magnets than Bee and his first human friend had ever been.

There were still troubles haunting the newly re-awakened Cybertron, in the form of a few Decepticon holdouts and some newcomers called the Quintessons. Those weren’t Bumblebee’s problem, though. His job now was to keeping piloting his little ship, which he’d named _The Hidden Stinger,_ along the trade routes taken by ships travelling from Earth to his homeworld and back. A few times, he’d been able to detect incoming pirates or asteroids, which he’d transmitted the info about to all nearby vessels for appropriate action. His warnings were always appreciated and helpful, even preventing losses of life in the instances with the attacking pirates. 

“Cowards, preying on innocents like that,” he once muttered, earning a hum of agreement from the ghostly Prowl sitting in the co-pilot’s seat. As ever, the Praxian mech was going over details on a data-pad, but now he helped Bee manage his supplies and timetable rather than tweaking battle strategies for their full efficiency.

“You’ll either need to return to Cybertron soon for more energon, or else request some from a merchant’s vessel.” Prowl looked up to inform him. “I’d suggest the former, but knowing your current inclinations...”

“I’ll ask the next cruiser we have to transmit to.” Bumblebee promised him.

“Acceptable. As long as you avoid the danger of running out and becoming stranded.”

“Of course, Prowl.”

Scene 7:

_*Are you quite sure you don’t want to take some personal time, Goldbug?*_ The mech on the other end of the telecom line asked him worriedly.

“Quite sure, sir. You need someone on this route, and I’ve nothing better to do.”

_*Well, I should let you know, Rodimus Prime has contacted me on quite a few occasions, asking to be informed of whenever you do return to Cybertron for your leave.*_

Bee thought of quite a few things he’d like to say to Roddy about that, but didn’t bother speaking them aloud to his boss. “Well, you certainly shouldn’t feel upset to inform him that I’ll be staying aboard my ship for the foreseeable future.”

_*I hope you know what you’re doing, Goldbug - antagonizing the Prime is-*_

“Is something I will gladly risk doing, since that mech’s been a pain in my aft since we were younglings.” Bumblebee couldn’t help but growl. At his superior’s startled expression, the minibot sighed and waved him off. “I’m keeping to my route, sir. Don’t worry about Prime, he won’t take any action against you.”

_*Well... If you’re quite certain, then...8_

Scene 8:

After his third consecutive Full Distance patrol, Bumblebee was heading back towards Cybertronian space when his instruments detected something odd. Checking again, his optics widened at the sight of off-the-charts energy readings, emanating from a large, unknown object and heading straight for his homeworld.

“Calling Solar Scout Headquarters, Iacon Spaceport, do you read? Acknowledge, this is Patroller Goldbug, with an urgent report.”

A faint, fizzling transmission came back to him. _*Acknowledged, Goldbug, what seems to be the trouble?*_

“I’m sending in the readings my ship is getting off of an unknown celestial object, with incoming vectors for Cybertron.” Hurriedly, Bee transferred the data into his communications controls, hoping someone more experienced than he would have an explanation. Then he was stuck waiting anxiously until a reply.

A few minutes later, there came a general broadcast for all ships on approach to the metallic planet, warning them to hold off until a potential threat was analyzed and diffused. Then Bumblebee’s usual contact at the spaceport called him back.

_*We’ve sent your report off the the science division, and whatever that thing is has them worried. Can you get close enough to it for some more detailed readings? They said it might help for coming up with a way to turn it from its collision course.*_

“Will do. Keep this line open for further transmission. Goldbug out.” Holding back a nervous feeling, Bumblebee turned his own ship, aiming for the object which continued to give off intense energy spikes. It wasn’t long before he was able to actually see the thing through his viewscreen: a glowing, ovaloid mass that spun ever so slowly as it hurtled through space. Bee went ahead and set his sensor readings to automatically feed into the comm console. Not quite sure how much data the scientists would need, he cautiously moved closer, until the bright orange glow completely filled his screen.

Then his spark nearly gave out from shock when an eye opened at the front of the thing.

“Whoa-!” The unknown being started to slow and shift to face his vessel, which Bumblebee quickly threw into reverse. He also hit the record button, adding the footage to his ongoing transmission. “Iacon, are you seeing this?!”

_*Yes!*_ A startled yelp came back over the line. _*Forget the data, get out of there, GB!*_

“Don’t have to tell me tw- _Frag!”_ A tendril had shot out from the creature, which wrapped around Bee’s ship before he had time to react. “Oh, I hate when they have tentacles!” A memory file flashed through his processor, of Jazz being speared by one of Unicron’s drone cables, choking on his own fluids as more of the evil things crushed his limbs and spark-

Snarling, Bee put his thrusters on full blast, rocketing forward and over the creature, barely managing to escape the tendril thanks to his change of direction. Even so, it was a near thing, and took a lot out of his little scout ship.

Enough that when a second tendril whipped out at him, with the intention of smashing rather than grabbing, Bumblebee didn’t have a chance to evade it.

Scene 9:

“Yer stronger than this, kid,” Ironhide’s ghost told him, concern obvious in the old mech’s optics. “Ya just gotta hang on ‘til the other Scouts come t’ git ya.”

“But I want to see you guys again,” the minibot murmured, ignoring the energon loss warning his systems were chiming at him.

“Ah know ya do, Bee, but y’ can’t leave the others like this. They’ve been hurt ‘nuff by the way you’ve pushed ‘em all away, they don’t need t’ deal with yer death on top a’ that.”

“I guess so...”

“Ah know so.” His old guardian said firmly. Trapped in the squashed remains of his ship’s cockpit, torn away from the rest of the vessel, Bumblebee wasn’t sure how long he’d been drifting since the encounter with the energy monster. Unable to move his arms and legs, the minibot had been forced to remain still and try save his strength, a task made no easier by the steady dripping of energon from gashes ripped in his chassis. Having Ironhide there to talk to was probably the only thing keeping Bee from attempting to offline his own spark.

Of all of the ways he’d envisioned departing from life to rejoin his family in the Well of Allsparks, this certainly wasn’t one of them. Maybe that was a good reason to try and hang on as long as possible, too.

“Seems as good a reason t’ me as any.” ‘Hide agreed, perched awkwardly on the edge of what had been the co-pilot’s seat. “You’ll see, kid. Someone’ll be ‘long soon ‘nuff t’ haul yer sorry aft outta this hunk a’ junk.”

“Was a nice hunk of junk...”

“Yeah, it was. Y’ did a nice job with this ship, Bee. Be a shame if ya didn’t get a chance t’ set yerself up with a new one.”

“Mm.” The two of them continued to idly chat, ignoring the way Bumblebee’s optics started to fritz, or how his limbs would tremble from time to time with the loss of power.

“Y’ got so much t’ live for, kid.” Ironhide whispered as the minibot finally started to slip into stasis. “Don’t go throwin’ it all away just fer us relics.”

Scene 10:

“...Bee? You in there?”

“‘M ‘wake.” He mumbled, not bothering to power up his optics.

“I got that.” The voice said, sounding amused. “But you might want to wake all the way up and take a look around before the boys lose control of themselves and jump you.”

Confused, Bumblebee went ahead and followed the voice’s advice, startled to find himself in an infirmary that did not resemble the Well of Allsparks in the slightest.

“Eh?”

“Hey there, old friend.” Spike smirked from beside his berth. Daniel was nearly bouncing with excitement beside him as Carly attempted to keep a restraining hand on her son’s shoulder. Standing a little further away were Rodimus and a very short orange minibot, both smiling anxiously.

“Well, that’s my job done, then,” First Aid said off-handedly, from the other side of the berth. “I’ll just leave you all to it, but I’d better not have any more patients to deal with when I come back!”

“Thanks, Aid,” Roddy said to him as the medic departed from the room. “We’ll call you if we need anything.”

“More like if you need to sedate me again,” Bee muttered as he shifted to a sitting position. No one commented on his words, but he caught the nervous glance Spike and Carly exchanged, along with Rodimus’ pensive expression.

Daniel, though, ignored it completely as he bounded forward onto the berth in order to hug his godfather. “It’s great to see you, Bumblebee! Especially since Aid patched you up. Those were some pretty nasty wounds.”

“Yeah, getting slapped by a giant space monster tends to do that to a mech. What happened with that thing, anyway?”

“Thanks to the information you were able to transmit, Perceptor’s team determined that it was coming to Cybertron searching for radon energy.” Bee shuddered at Rodimus’ explanation, perfectly able to picture that monster descending up their homeworld and killing every bot it could just to get their radon-powered sparks. “But, they managed to put together a device that mimicked the energy’s signature, dumped the thing in a rocket and sent it off towards a black hole. The monster turned to chase down the supposedly bigger meal, and hasn’t come back since. Bee... I owe you an apology.”

The minibot arched an optic-ridge at that. “Oh?”

“I talked with your superiors at the Solar Scouts, and they said that if you hadn’t been on that patrol route, it was likely no one else would have been out there to spot this threat. Our planetary sensors wouldn’t have picked up that monster’s signal until it was too late to do anything.” Roddy hesitated, long enough for a smirk to spread across Bee’s faceplate.

“So... What you’re saying is that I did good by sneaking out and putting myself in the cockpit.”

“...Yeah.”

“Ha!” Bumblebee punched a fist in the air, making sure it wasn’t the one Daniel was still perched upon. “Take that, clinic docs!”

“Speaking of whom,” Carly spoke up with a tone of voice that Bee did not like in the slightest. “It’s been decided that no one’s going to force you back into that place, provided you go ahead and spend your ground leave with us, so that Spike and I can make sure you’re functioning on all fronts again.”

“Well... I guess that’s okay. I’ll stay for Daniel’s birthday, and then I-”

“Nope, too short. I said your leave time, Bee, and I meant all of it. Through New Year’s Eve, at the very least.”

He gaped at her. “Oh no. Do you want me to lose what little sanity I’ve managed to get back these last couple years? There’s no way I’m staying on this planet for four whole months.”

“Christmas, then.”

“That’s hardly even a- No. Halloween, _maybe.”_

“Split the difference - Thanksgiving. That way you’ll be here for Spike’s birthday as well.” The two of them continued to glower at one another as their audience wisely stayed quiet.

“Fine.” Bumblebee finally huffed, before turning to glare at his opponent’s husband. “When did she become such a hardcore haggler?”

“Ever since the day I asked her to fill in for me with Ultra Magnus at a conference with the Ba’atubeks to settle our trading agreement,” Spike sighed. He avoided the punch Carly threw his way by jumping down from the human platform.

“First Aid said he wanted you to stay here another night for observation, but that you can come home with us tomorrow.” Daniel told his godfather with a grin. “Wheelie and I have got all these neat things we want to show you! This visit is going to be so great, Uncle Bee!”

Sighing, Bumblebee reluctantly offered the kid a smile. “I’m sure it will be, Danny.” He decided to hold back on his misgivings for a while longer, at least.

How bad could the next three months be, after all?


	3. Coming Back from the Brink

Scene 1:

“I get it now,” Bumblebee said dryly as he watched Spike and Carly get ready for a day at their respective offices. “You only wanted me to come stay here so that you two could get free babysitting.”

“Honestly, Bee, you know Daniel’s old enough to take care of himself.”

“But with Wheelie here, neither of you is willing to leave the two of them alone.” He smirked in triumph as the grown humans each gave him a begrudged nod.

“It’ll only be for today, I promise.” Spike assured him, to which Bumblebee merely raised an optic-ridge.

“Right. Where have I heard that one before?” All three of them remembered the first time Bee had been conscripted as a babysitter for baby Daniel, a task he’d greatly enjoyed for all the years that it lasted, but which had also begun as a supposedly one day deal.

“Okay, fine, it’ll only be on rare occasions, does that suit you, your Gruffiness?” Carly asked with a huff.

“Depends. Where are the boys when they aren’t here?”

“Usually, at work with one of us or another of the old crowd, which is where they tend to get into various types of trouble.”

“Don’t they ever stay with Wheelie’s caretakers?” He blinked at the lack of a response. “Well?”

“...When he isn’t with hanging out with Daniel, Wheelie stays at Autobot headquarters. Officially, the kid claims to have reached his majority, even though no one really believes it for a second.” Spike slowly explained. “But since he’s adamant about it, Rodimus lets him stay in the troop barracks when he isn’t spending the night here.”

Bumblebee stared at him, dumbfounded. “That’s all they’re doing for him? If the kid’s an orphan, he needs a guardian, frag it!”

“We aren’t at war anymore, Bee, so Rodimus can’t make that decision the way Optimus did back in the day with you guys. Unless Wheelie owns up to being younger than he claims, no one’s going to be putting him in the care of an adult.”

“Maybe you could try doing something about that during your stay,” Carly said casually, getting an odd look from her husband as Bee began to mull it over.

“I just might,” the minibot muttered.

“Alright then, we’d better be off. Have fun with the boys, don’t let them do any science experiments, food is in the kitchen or you can go out to eat as long as it’s someplace healthy. See you tonight!” She and Spike both called their goodbyes to Daniel and Wheelie, who were in the back of the house, before heading out the door.

“What was that with telling Bee he should do something about Wheelie?” The question came as they were walking along the road to Iacon’s diplomatic center, and caused Carly to grin.

“A bot who was orphaned by war and raised by loving guardians hears about a kid with similar origins but no caretakers? I’d bet a hundred credits that by the end of today, Bee’s made it his personal mission to wrangle Wheelie into a proper family. Maybe even apply for guardianship of the kid himself.”

Eyebrows raised, Spike shot a glance over his shoulder at the high class housing unit they’d just left behind. “Huh. You really think so?”

“You know better than I that Bee considered most of the older Autobots his family. Do you doubt for a second that he isn’t going to do everything he can to ensure that Wheelie experiences something of the same?”

“After thinking it over, no, I can’t say I do. Heck, this might be just the thing for him!”

“For both of them, dear. Both of them.”

Scene 2:

“How?” Was all Bee had to say, staring at the absolute chaos Daniel and Wheelie had managed to unleash in the human boy’s bedroom. Strands of some sort of gelatinous substance stretched from floor to ceiling, taking various objects and furniture items with them. The boys were trapped on the far side of the room, surrounded by the stuff, and grinning sheepishly at him.

“Uh... Experiment. For science!” Daniel said by way of explanation.

“Turned out just as it was meant to be, only larger than expected, see?” Was Wheelie’s contribution.

Bumblebee groaned and rubbed a servo against his forehelm. “Okay, let’s leave the exact walkthrough of how this happened for later. Do either of you know of a way to clean this stuff up without making an even _bigger_ mess?”

“Oh sure, it’ll dissolve with water.” The human boy informed him. “We just, uh, can’t get to any at the moment.”

“So I see.” Bee shook his helm. “Alright, you two hang in there while I go find a bucket or something.”

“Utility closet’s at the back of the kitchen!” Even with Daniel’s helpful note, it took Bee a while to dig through the cluttered storage space in order to find an old mop bucket.

“Just as organized as ever I see, Spike.” He muttered while filling it from the nozzle at the sink. Then the minibot hauled it back to Daniel’s room, and used a smaller cup he’d snagged to pour streams of water over the goo strands. Within a few minutes, most of the yucky stuff had fizzled out of existence, leaving behind a swamp of pale green liquid throughout the room. As the boys started to retrieve everything that was salvageable, Bee ducked back to the kitchen and returned with a couple of mops to go along with some industrial sized sponges and the bucket, re-filled with soapy water.

“Alright, you two clean this up, and as soon as you’re done, report to me in the living room.” He said grimly. “And _no_ detours for anymore ‘experiments’. Last thing I need is you two turning into a couple of mini Wheeljacks...”

It wasn’t until he’d left the boys to their work that Bumblebee realized it was the first time in almost a year and a half that he’d said the name of one of the Autobots lost to the Battle. During the hours that it took Daniel and Wheelie to clean up their mess, he’d merely sat and puzzled over the altered emotions running through his spark. The grief was still there, and always would be, he suspected, but most of the anger and bitterness seemed to have faded away.

Perhaps the year in space had done him more good than Bee first realized, after all.

Scene 3:

“You seriously want _that_ monstrosity for your first vehicle?” Bumblebee was hard-pressed not to laugh. “If that’s the sort of thing teens today appreciate, Tracks would have a spark-attack.”

“It’s not that bad,” Daniel frowned at his godfather. The three of them were in the process of walking through Iacon’s commercial district in search of a decent place to eat for lunch when the boy’s eyes were caught by a poster for a new sportscar being put on the market (for humans to buy or bots to scan for an alt-mode). Not only was the particular model depicted on the electronic poster garishly colored in green and a pinkish-reddish color, but the designers had gone out of their way to try and make the thing look unique. What they got was a lot of odd lines and random fins in a supposedly aerodynamic form. 

“Danny, if you tried to go out in that thing and got hit by a crosswind, you’d suddenly find yourself flying rather than driving. Do you get what I’m saying?”

“I guess so,” his godson muttered.

“Now, _Wheelie_ here’s alt mode is about as smooth a drive as you’re likely to get, I think.” The orange minibot snapped his helm up in astonishment. “Not a sharp edge on him, and young enough you’ve still got full suspension, right Wheels?”

“Right, I suppose, as far as that goes...”

“He’s really fast too, Uncle Bee.” Daniel decided to put in, and help steer the conversation away from his own taste in vehicles. “We had to get away from some of Galvatron’s Decepticons a few months ago, and Wheelie managed to get away from the Sweeps and into a tunnel faster than you could say ‘run for it!’ ‘Course, then we were wandering around underground for a few hours until the Dinobots sniffed us out...”

“Oh, that’s nothing. Has Spike ever told you guys about the time he and I got lost in the African Savannah? It took Hound almost a straight week to track us down, thanks to a signal scrambler that the Cons had set off during the battle that separated me and your dad from the rest of our team.”

“Whoa! Really?”

“Yep. And let me tell you, the wild animals were _nothing_ compared to having half a dozen terrified natives shooting poison arrows at you...” All through the rest of the afternoon, Bumblebee told the enthralled boys all sorts of stories about his and Spike’s misadventures during the two decades the War had been centered on Earth. He had to pause on a few occasions to explain about mechs who’d died before Wheelie met them,though, ignoring the pains in his spark as he did so.

For the sake of sharing the good deeds of those bots with this pair of awed younglings, Bee could temporarily set aside his grief.

“... But for the Siansi, you need to have a legal connection to the person who comes to bail you out, with proper documentation as proof.” Bumblebee explained. “So, after all of our efforts to make sure Carly knew nothing about our evening out, she got a call in the middle of the night from the Sian Police Division, with full details of the whole thing.”

Both Daniel and Wheelie cringed even as they laughed at the mech’s dramatic narrative.

When the fourteen year old got his breath back, he asked how his mom had managed to get both his father and surrogate uncle sprung from the alien jailhouse.

“Well, for Spike, she brought over a copy of their marriage license - and with me, it was actually a copy of your birth certificate, kiddo, which had both your parents’ names on it, and mine listed as your godfather. Once the Siansi had those, we were out in about ten minutes.”

“Bet you wished it had taken longer, though.”

“Oh, yeah - the entire two hour flight from Sian back to Earth, your mom chewed us out but good. Skyfire may have been in shuttle mode at the time, but I know he was grinning at every word she yelled. Fragger made an audio recording of the whole thing, too, and let it circulate around the base.”

Daniel gaped in disbelief while Wheelie howled with laughter. “No - he didn’t!”

“He did.” Bumblebee shook his helm with a smirk. “I got him back for it a couple weeks later, at least - reset the environmental controls in his room to super saturate it with moisture, then dropped the temperature below freezing.”

“A prank, you? That cannot be true,” Wheelie scoffed.

The human boy’s jaw dropped. “I remember hearing about that! His whole room froze over in a layer of ice two feet thick - but I thought Sideswipe and Sunstreaker got blamed for it?”

“They did. That was the secondary part of my plan, to make sure he didn’t get me back for it - along with bribing the two of them to willingly take the blame.”

“Daaang, Uncle Bee, I never would have guessed you had it in you.”

“Well, that’s the nice thing about having been a part of Special Ops - a lot of the same skills carried over for making pranks, and I always had to be a good actor to divert suspicion from myself.”

“What other jobs were there for Special Ops? All I’ve ever heard was that they were tops.”

“Oh, we did most of the behind the scenes stuff - gathering intel about the enemy, sabotaging Decepticon bases, leading small infiltration missions to rescue prisoners, all that sort of thing.”

“To be such a bot, I’d have given a lot.” Wheelie sighed. “I try to help and all, but Autobots say I’m too small.” Bumblebee tilted his helm slightly, suddenly seeing yet another similarity between himself and the younger mech.

“Stand up.” Both the boys glanced at him, startled. “You heard me, c’mon, both of you up.” As soon as they were standing, Bee showed the pair how to get into a fighting stance. “First rule of fighting an opponent larger than you - _let_ them think you’re the weaker fighter, just a puny minibot or human. When they underestimate you, your enemy brings about their own downfall.”

Jazz’s voice echoed in his mind as Bumblebee spent the next few hours demonstrating various combat moves the pair could perform against those bigger than themselves. When Daniel asked how he could possibly use such attacks against Decepticons, his godfather pointed out that on the occasions that the kid knew there was good chance of fighting, he could go grab the old exo-suit to wear.

“Besides, you never know when you might need to go up against a human who’s got a foot of height and a hundred pounds of muscle on you.”

“...True.”

Scene 4:

“Okay, I’ll admit, Bee teaching the boys how to fight wasn’t _quite_ what I had in mind,” Carly said as she, Spike, and Rodimus stood looking down through one of the observation windows into the main training room at Autobot Headquarters. On one of the sparring mats below, Wheelie had just fought Springer to a standstill, much to the triple-changer’s shock. From the sidelines, Bumblebee and Daniel cheered for the orange minibot, getting him to duck his helm bashfully.

“Springer’s just the latest one,” Rodimus informed the humans. “Those three have been here all morning, taking turns bringing down every other bot who comes in. I think Bee actually draws out his fights in order to give the others a demonstration.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest,” Spike murmured with a grin, watching as his best friend laughed and smiled with a good humor he hadn’t had in ages. It looked like the old Bumblebee was finally coming to the surface once more.

“Oh, and his mental evaluation is coming up soon - do you two think you might be able to convince him to actually undergo it at the clinic?”

“Not a chance.” The married couple said in sync.

“He would either accuse us of trying to trap him in there again and bolt, or dig his heels in like Ironhide would about routine check-ups and refuse to answer any of the questions the doctors tried to ask him,” Spike elaborated.

“We’d be back to square one, or worse, no squares at all to work with.” Carly added.

Sighing, Rodimus agreed that he had feared much the same. “Still, he’s got to go through with the evaluation, or the medics will insist he go back into their facility.”

“Have them send one of their shrinks to our house, then. We’ll all be there together with him, lessen the stress as much as possible.”

“I think that might just be our only option at this point.”

Scene 5:

Bumblebee glowered silently at the femme doctor. She stared passively back. Sitting on chairs around the rest of the room, Wheelie and the Witwicky's watched anxiously. After almost ten minutes of silence, everyone was waiting for someone else to make the first move.

Eventually, that someone else turned out to be the doctor.

“So, Bumblebee, can you tell me how you’ve been feeling since you returned to Cybertron?”

“Ecstatic.” He deadpanned.

“I see. How have you been managing in your new surroundings? I imagine they’re quite different from when you were last here.”

“I haven’t gotten lost, if that’s what you mean. Just because I grew up when most of the planet was in ruins doesn’t mean I can’t find my way around.” The femme’s lip components pressed together tightly, giving Bee the impression that she must have either been a bot who went into stasis when the energon crisis started getting bad, or else fled the planet when the War first broke out. Being in the first category would make her someone he’d work with if he had to, but if she was in the second... It would make this conversation even harder. Cliffjumper and plenty of others he’d grown up around had managed to make Bumblebee wary of Cybertronians who simply ran away from the fight for their homeworld, and with the rise of his cynical personality, that wariness was translated into full-blown hostility.

“I meant with Cybertron being restored to an era of peace,” she amended. “Having spent most of your life cycle in a war is bound to make the change a harsh adjustment.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But really, the War was winding down anyway, to the point that we sometimes had to remind ourselves we were still fighting the Cons.”

“We? Do you mean yourself and the other Autobots from the Ark? Are you still upset about their deaths, Bumblebee?”

He had to grind his denta together in an effort to avoid leaping up and yelling at her for talking about them so blandly. “Yes. The Ark crew and myself. And I imagine there are lots of people still upset about losing them.”

“I’m not evaluating anyone else, though. I want to hear about your feelings. Many of them were your good friends, were they not?”

“Family.”

“And you’re still in the grieving process for them.”

“Supposedly.”

She frowned, leaning forward slightly. “Bumblebee, you are aware of the documented stages of grief, yes? It is my opinion that for over a year you’ve been trapped in the Anger stage, unable to move on. It isn’t healthy, and I’d like to point out that at our facility you’d be able to receive proper help for-”

The doctor flinched when Bee brought a clenched fist down upon the arm of his seat with a harsh bang. “I’m not going back into that place,” he growled. “And as far as your stages of grief go, I worked through them during my year in the Solar Scouts.”

“And yet, you’re getting defensive and lashing out at any target that presents itself-”

“Most of the people I see and talk to don’t present themselves in the same way you are right now, lady.” Her frown deepened into a scowl at his words.

“You aren’t making a strong case for yourself right now, Bumblebee. Can you think about how your friends, your family, would react to seeing you act like this-?”

“Don’t you _dare_ bring them into this, as though you’d know what they thought!” He snarled. “You didn’t know them. You didn’t grow up with them! You sure as the Pit weren’t there when they talked me out of my depression aboard that ship-”

“When they _talked_ to you?” She cut in sharply. “Did you actually converse with them, Bumblebee? Or were they merely a figment of your imagination?”

He crossed his arms and snorted. “Does it matter? Ghosts, hallucinations, figments of my imagination, they were there when I needed them to be. Made sure I kept taking care of myself, did my job right with minimal risks, kept me from offlining myself after that energy monster tore my ship apart and left me drifting, injured and with next to no hope of rescue.” Aware that the others in the room were staring at him with mixed expressions of shock and fear, Bee made an effort to regain control of his vocalizer.

“Do you still see or hear them?”

“...Not since coming back. Since I’ve started staying here.” Instead of pacifying her, as he thought that statement would, the doctor’s optics narrowed and she started to reach for her datapad.

“I think it would be a good idea if you came back to our clinic, Bumblebee, at least for a few days, just so we can observe in case you have anymore of these conversations-” In an instant, Bee was on his pedes, and despite not quite being of a height with her still managed to give the impression of looming over the startled femme.

“Not. Gonna. Happen.” He growled, before turning on his heel and stalking out the front door. No one moved until they heard the sound of his transformation sequence and Bee’s engine roaring as he took off at full speed. Within moments, the doctor had activated her comlink and was calling for armed assistance, while the boys hurried after Bumblebee, Daniel jumping into Wheelie’s seat as soon as the minibot shifted to vehicle mode. Meanwhile, Spike had grabbed his own communicator to contact Rodimus and Carly made an attempt to forestall the doctor’s request for reinforcements.

This hadn’t gone the way anyone planned.

Scene 6:

“I’m sorry, guys, but we haven’t been able to find any sign of him,” Rodimus sorrowfully told the Witwicky family. “We’ve checked with the Scouts, put out a Watch Sign for him with all forms of public transport, and have as many eyes as possible scanning the city. That said, you know he trained under the best - if Bee doesn’t want us to find him, we probably won’t, not without a miracle.”

Spike and Carly both nodded their downcast agreement, but Daniel was ready to explode. He’d been ordered home, though Wheelie was allowed to go on with the search efforts, because of his supposed full-grown status.

“He wouldn’t just skip town like last time,” the kid insisted, despite the looks of extreme skepticism he was receiving. “He wouldn’t! He promised!”

“Who promised?” Bumblebee asked as he walked into the room, stretching out a kink in his back struts.

“BEE!” Raising his optic-ridges at the lot of them, Bumblebee looked the very definition of confused innocence.

“What? What are you all worked up about now, for Primus’ sake?” Rodimus was across the living room in just a few steps, snatching the shorter minibot up into a tight hug. “The frag-! Roddy, you nutcase, put me down!”

“Do you have _any idea_ of how _worried_ we all were?!” Carly snapped as the Prime carefully set his annoyed friend back on the ground, just in time for Daniel to charge up and grab Bee in his own embrace. _“Where the Pit have you been?”_

“Recharging in my room.” He smirked at their looks of shock. “What? I said I wouldn’t take off and I didn’t. In fact, I just drove around the block earlier and snuck in the back door so that I wouldn’t have to face that idiot doctor again.”

“You- YOU-” Spike couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing.

Rodimus shook his helm in fond exasperation, then headed outside so that he could call off the numerous search efforts. A notice was also put in to the recovery clinic, telling them in no uncertain terms that whatever treatment he might need, Bumblebee would be getting it on his own terms and certainly _no one else’s._

From the Matrix, Roddy could hear Optimus Prime’s distinctive, highly amused laughter, and decided that he’d made the right move.

Scene 7:

Bumblebee awoke rather early the next morning, thanks to the extra recharge he’d gotten from his nap. Deciding to go ahead and start his day, the mech strolled from his room to the kitchen, intending to serve himself a cube of energon and take a look at what the newsfeeds were saying. Before he reached his intended destination, though, something odd caught Bee’s gaze.

Daniel, laying in the remains of a nest of blankets and pillows, was sound asleep in front of the threshold of the front door, obviously attempting to guard it. Turning around, Bumblebee went and checked the back exit, finding Wheelie in a similar position. He shook his helm with a silent sigh, before undertaking the task of getting the two boys back to their proper beds without waking either one up. Carrying Daniel was a cinch, despite the kid’s growth spurts since the last time Bee had taken his slumbering form from one room to another. Wheelie, though, was a bit trickier, because even though he was a fair bit smaller than Bumblebee (barely bigger than a full grown human, even!) he was still Cybertronian, which equated to having a pretty hefty weight.

Still, Bee managed, though just as he was setting the younger minibot in his bed, the kid stirred slightly.

“G’night, creator. See y’later,” he murmured. After taking a few minutes to get over his surprise, Bumblebee retreated from the room and let the door slide shut. He continued to stare at it for a while, eventually retracing his earlier steps to the kitchen.

“Figures,” the mech muttered to himself at one point. “Little guy rhymes even in his sleep.”

“I suspect someone must have used poems or lullabies to distract him during times of stress, which became his default speech pattern.” Jerking in surprise, Bee whirled around to face Optimus, who calmly leant against the kitchen counter. The two stared at each other for a good long while, until Bumblebee sighed and slapped himself across his faceplates.

“Ghost, hallucination or otherwise?” He challenged.

“Any of the above.” The older mech returned, to which the minibot scowled.

“That’s not helpful and you know it.” Optimus only shrugged.

“All I am able to say, Bumblebee, is that the others and myself will continue to show up when you need us. As you’ve been healing very well so far with the Witwicky’s and Wheelie’s help, there hasn’t been a need for us.”

“And let me guess, you’re only going to show yourselves to me when no one else is around or watching, right?”

“That would be correct.”

“Joy.”

Optimus rumbled a brief chuckle at him. “I will admit, young one, cynical sarcasm from you is both a refreshing yet worrisome change.”

“Dare I ask what you mean by that?” If Bee hadn’t liked where the conversation was headed before, he especially didn’t like the way his old leader’s optics darkened.

“You lost your innocence to our war far earlier than most others did, Bumblebee, and that was horribly unfair to you. Yet, through the vorns that we battled the Decepticons, you managed to remain such a beacon of light for the Autobots. You stood for what we hoped to accomplish by fighting - to win back our planet’s future so that others may be sparked with hope and innocence, free from fear and tyranny. To see you lose that light just as the War has finally ended... Even amongst the peace of the Well of Allsparks, it is possible to experience the pain of a broken spark. And that is exactly what a great many of us who’ve watched you grow from sparklinghood now feel.”

“...Y’know,” Bee said hoarsely, not bothering to wipe away the coolant tears that spilled down from his optics in a great stream. “Whatever you people are now, it really fraggin’ stinks that I can’t get a hug out of all these oh so helpful words of insight.” He was about to let himself collapse to the floor when the minibot suddenly felt large hands gently take hold of his shoulder pauldrons. Looking up in shock, he met Optimus’ compassionate gaze as the massive mech knelt in order to give Bumblebee a proper embrace.

Scene 8:

Daniel had a moment of panic when he woke up in his own bed, instead of the makeshift one he’d put together by the front door. Scrambling out of his room, the boy nearly ran face-first into Wheelie, who was wearing the same panicked expression. Together, the two of them dashed out of the hallway with the bedrooms towards the main section of the house.

Their fears turned out to be completely unwarranted, though, as they found Bumblebee sitting at the kitchen table with the grown Witwicky’s, having an intense discussion with Carly about the course curriculum at the Sciences Academy while Spike went over some of his paperwork.

“Morning, boys. Sleep well?” They each stared, dumbfounded, at the new mischievous twinkle in Bee’s optics.

“Uh... Yeah.” Daniel finally replied. “You?”

“Well enough I suppose. Woke up a bit early thanks to my nap yesterday, but that just meant I got a head start of moving some things around.” The minibot smirked at them over Carly and Spike’s oblivious heads, letting the boys know that he wouldn’t be revealing their midnight move any time soon. “So, I believe you two had planned a trip to the nature park being built outside the city, right? What time do we leave?”

The three of them ended up departing shortly after Daniel and Wheelie had their respective breakfast meals, wishing the grown humans a pleasant day off from their jobs. Driving together as they led the grown mech off towards the park, both the boys were dreading the moment he decided to bring up their not-so-well thought out plan. Bee didn’t say a word, though, until they’d reached the edge of the construction site and both minibots had returned to their bi-pedal forms.

“I’m going to assume you’d banked on waking up before anyone else and returning to your rooms around daybreak, right?” Cringing, the two of them just nodded. “It would have been a smarter idea to set yourselves up at the end of the hallway, which only had one way in or out, and to have taken turns sleeping and keeping watch.”

Perfectly aware of the startled stares he was receiving, Bee held back on the smug grin he really, _really_ wanted to let out. “I was a kid once myself, y’know, perfectly capable of pulling the exact same kind of stunt. Granted, I was also being raised by an assortment of the craftiest mechs ever to call Cybertron home, and they made the mistake of teaching me just about every trick they knew.”

“Bee is being confusing, and this isn’t amusing.”

“Yeah, what Wheelie said - why are you telling us this, Uncle?”

Finally, Bumblebee turned to face them, staring down the pair of boys with worry on their faces but determination in their stances. And for the first time since Unicron’s arrival, Bee smiled - really smiled, when all his good cheer and happiness just refused to be contained.

“Because. The War might be over, but there are still Decepticons and other threats out there, so I want to make sure you two have every possible weapon in your personal arsenals.” He waited while the two exchanged their baffled expressions, which morphed into more serious ones as they looked at him again.

“Okay,” Daniel answered for the both of them. “When do we st-”

He was cut off by a sudden explosion that rocked the ground, causing all three to lose their balance and drop. Biting back a curse, Bee was the first back onto his pedes, scanning the skies for what he hoped wasn’t there. Luck wasn’t on his side, though, as the forms of airborne Decepticons made themselves apparent. Galvatron’s scratchy voice bellowed out across the area, ordering his troops to raze ‘the abomination to Cybertron’s metallic form’ to the ground.

“I guess we start right now.” Bumblebee said grimly to the boys, just before a trio of Sweeps made to open fire on their position.

Scene 9:

“I’m not even going to _begin_ to ask what you were thinking, because I _know_ for a fact that you _couldn’t have been.”_ Bee calmly watched as his best friend paced angrily back and forth across the infirmary floor. Autobot troops had reached the nature park only a few minutes after Galvatron’s warriors began their attack, and were able to successfully drive the Decepticons off. Even so, that amount of time was plenty for the park to be obliterated - or it would have been, had Bumblebee, Wheelie and Daniel not made utter nuisances of themselves, distracting the terrorists from their assigned task and buying time for others in the area to escape.

Daniel had gotten a few cuts on his left arm from shrapnel, the majority of which Bee had shielded him from. The grown minibot himself had some snapped cables in his legs and more than a few gashes in his armor from blasts and enemy fire he’d barely avoided. The seriousness of Wheelie’s wounds were in between those of the other two, with some scorching along his back that First Aid insisted be checked out, just in case anything underneath the plating had been melted or fried.

All in all, Bumblebee felt that their trio of pipsqueaks had handled the situation quite well. Spike was clearly not of the same opinion.

“You and I ran headlong into situations far more dangerous than that, and you without half the training I’ve been giving the boys-”

“This isn’t a war anymore, Bee!” Spike yelled. “They shouldn’t _have_ to learn how to fight or shoot, much less actually be required to do so! You’re treating them like soldiers in the making!”

“I’m treating them exactly as I was treated, Spike. Is it truly so bad that I should want to make sure the two of them can survive any fight they find themselves dropped into, willingly or otherwise? What about that situation last year with the information asteroid, huh? I think they definitely could have used some combat training then.”

Spike winced, because he knew it was true. Knowing that Daniel and Wheelie were being held hostage by Decepticons far out of his reach had nearly crushed the man. His son usually received all the protection that the Autobots were able to offer, but it hadn’t made a damned difference that day.

“Just... Don’t get them in over their heads, Bee. Or too exhausted from training.”

Bumblebee grinned at him. “Hey, I survived Ironhide and Jazz’s training regimes, and I turned out okay, didn’t I? The boys will survive _me_ just fine.”

“Fine. But I’m warning you here and now, Bee, if they become too worn out to handle things anymore, I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to keep Carly from offlining you herself.”

“Point taken.”

Scene 10:  
(8 Years Later)

The Siansi desk clerk glanced up from her computer screen as a yellow and black Cybertronian came marching in the door, muttering something unpleasant in a low tone. He ignored the other clerks in the front room, coming straight to her workplace, making the fox-woman suspect this particular mech had visited Sian Police Divisional Headquarters before.

That suspicion was confirmed when, without any prompting, the Cybertronian slapped two properly coded pieces of paper onto her desk, one of Terran origin and the other of the mech’s homeworld, and declared that he’d come to post bail for the two off-worlders they’d apprehended from a party gone out of control earlier in the evening. Nodding affirmation, the clerk quickly ran the provided documents through her scanner, uploading them into the system for confirmation and approval. As soon as that was given, she sent out the comm message for Daniel Witwicky and Wheelie to be released and escorted to the front office.

“You know,” she trilled lightly as they waited. “It is usual for parents to come to retrieve their children, but not often secondary guardians, as I believe the human document claims you to be.”

His lip components twitched into a humorless smile. “His godfather, yeah. Well, Daniel’s parents were both busy tonight, and even if they weren’t, I doubt either would be interested in returning here after his mother had to bail out his father and myself some years ago.”

“Ah. That explains your familiarity with our protocols as well, then.” She gave a brief nod to the paper documents - the first a human birth certificate, the other a Cybertronian seal of adoption.

“Yes, this wasn’t exactly an easy situation for me to forget. So much so that I made the mistake of telling my boys about it when they were younger, and something tells me that they decided to come here as some sort of right of passage.”

The clerk let loose a barking laugh, a much harsher sound compared to her soft voice. “Indeed.”

Their small talk ended when a guard came into the room, followed by a pair of shame-faced youths barely into their adulthood. Upon seeing just who had come to retrieve them, the human’s shoulders dropped even lower, while the Cybertronian appeared as though each step was causing him pain.

The grown mech merely waited with his arms crossed for the final release papers to be certified and the youths officially turned over to his custody. Then the first thing he did was smack the younger bot upside his helm and deliver a flick to the human’s, which caused about the same amount of pain for each individual if their reactions were anything to go be.

“Ow! Uncle Bee-”

“Come on Dad, it wasn’t that bad-!”

_“Both_ of you had better keep those protests to yourselves, because I _guarantee_ that isn’t the end of your punishment.” The mech hissed at them, silencing both in moments. “Now. You are going to march outside and straight to the spaceport _in silence,_ where we will board my ship and head straight back to Cybertron. Then you are going to tell me every. Single. Detail.”

The shame grew, along with the youths’ joint embarrassment. “Yes, sir.”

“Once we get home, Daniel, your parents are going to decide what your punishment is, while Wheelie is definitely _not_ going to be part of the Quantum Race next week.”

The younger mech gaped at him. “But that isn’t fair! I got in fair and square-”

“Should have thought of that before you two hitched a ride out here. Let me put it to you this way, Wheelie - it’s all part of having a proper guardian.” He then ordered the pair to start marching, and they quickly departed from the building.

Shaking her head in wonder, the Siansi desk clerk didn’t think she’d ever understand all that went into being a parent...

End


End file.
